Look At Me
by FicAddy
Summary: A oneshot based on Carrie Underwood's "Look at Me". Which is now a two-shot and will, eventually, become a full-grown three-shot. Eventually...
1. Look at Me

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story aren't mine. They belong to Ryan Murphy and Fox. I'm just borrowing, not making any profit, and I'll return them once I'm done. The song used is "Look at Me", as sung by Carrie Underwood from her album Play On. It's written and arranged by Jim Collins and Paul Overstreet and by using it, no copyright infringement is intended. Don't sue me! I'd hate to sell my guitars to be able to afford legal counsel…  
><strong>A.N.:<strong> I like country music. Or, I _love_ country music. Old, new and everything in between. They make great premises for fan fiction. I believe this is the third time I've used a country song in my stories. It probably won't be the last time, either…

Hope you enjoy!

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><p><em>I would bet my life like I bet my heart<br>That you were the one, baby  
>I've never been so sure of anything before<br>You're driving my heart crazy_

She'd always known this would be the song she'd dance the first dance to on her wedding day. Not like this, though. Never like this. The words, sung so beautifully, hurt her in ways she knows will leave marks on her already scarred heart. The arms around her tighten, nearly suffocating her. The body pressed against hers is too warm, too tall, too … everything. It makes her want to run. Run fast and far away. Or maybe run back, into a past she'd thought didn't matter anymore. Clearly, she'd been wrong.

Her back is turned towards the stage. Every time her dance partner tries to make them turn to switch their positions, she freezes up until they relent. She doesn't want to face the stage. She's pretty sure she actually, physically can't. It will break her. She just knows it will.

She feels, more than hears, the words whispered against her ear. The exhales of breath accompanying them and the scratching of stubble against her cheek make her shiver in all the wrong ways. She knows she should be thankful for the promises of undying love being made to her, but all it does is make her skin crawl. This isn't how she pictured it. Not even close.

Traitorous tears try to force their way through overly used ducts. Her eyes burn, her throat burns, but she refuses to cry. It's done now. She's married. It's time to stop living in the past. It's easier said than done, though. Instead of focusing on the voice of her brand new husband, her ears only pick up on the angelic sound coming from the speakers.

_I can't hold out  
>I can't hold back now<br>Like I've done before_

Darling look at me  
>I've fallen like a fool for you<br>Darling can't you see  
>I'd do anything you want me to<p>

_I tell myself I'm in too deep  
>Then I fall a little farther<br>Every time you look at me  
><em>

Every muscle in her body is screaming at her to turn around. To face the ghost of a love long past that's been haunting her ever since. Instead, she closes her eyes tightly, trying to will her wandering mind back into the present and forget about the woman she's loved for as long as she can remember.

_How do you do that, babe?  
>Make me feel like I'm the only girl alive for you<em>

I don't know what it is that makes me fall like this  
>First time in your arms I knew<p>

_The way you held me  
>I knew that this could be<br>What I've been waiting to find_

She doesn't know what she's done to deserve this. To have to listen to this voice, this song on this day. When her parents had found out that it was indeed _that_Rachel Berry, the one she went to high school with, they'd been adamant to have the Broadway-sensation sing at their daughter's wedding. No amount of fight she'd put up had been able to deter their plans. An invitation had been sent and every one of her prayers after that had been in vain. The moment her parents had shown her the confirming RSVP, she'd been down the hall and into the bathroom in seconds, vomiting until her stomach had nothing more to offer but the bitter taste of bile.

She feels the voice calling to her; begging her to turn around. It's silently screaming at her, _"Look at me!" _But she doesn't, because she can't. She can't face Rachel while in the arms of her husband. Not while the love of her life is singing _their_ song. It's killing her slowly but surely and once again she's left wondering how life could be this cruel. Squeezing her eyes shut even tighter, she clings to her husband for dear life, letting the heartbreak wash over her while she feels familiar eyes burning holes into the back of her skull.

She stops fighting the tears and soon she feels the warm wetness trace her cheeks. On the inside, she's exploding. Her heart is beating too fast and she can barely catch her breath. Burying her face into her husband's shoulder, makes it all so much worse. This man, who loves her, who wants to spend the rest of his life making her happy, is providing comfort to a wife who doesn't feel the same. A wife who will never look at him the way she looks at _her_. And now she's crying for breaking his heart, too. He mistakes her emotions for something they're not as his voice turns soothing, whispering how he feels the same way. And when she finds the strength to look up at him, at his beautiful, caring face, she finds nothing but love and tears in his eyes and it cripples her. How could she have let this happen?

Rachel's voice pulls her attention away from him when she hears a shuddering breath being taken before the last chorus of the song. The familiar sound calls out to her. Rachel is breaking, too. Without realizing it, she turns around and finds the singer staring at her. Pain is written clear across her face and the white-knuckled grip on her microphone doesn't go unnoticed by Quinn. She's breaking. Or maybe she has been broken for a long time now. She knows the feeling.

She feels arms wrap around her from behind, trying to coax her into finishing their dance, but she's frozen. He settles for moving flush against her back, his body swaying to the slow country music. He doesn't recognize that his wife is no longer with him. That every fiber of her being is now focused on the woman on stage. The one whose tears seem unstoppable now that she has the attention she's been craving all through the song. With their gazes locked, everything else falls away and Rachel's voice has never sounded more sincere when she forces out the last couple of lines.

_Darling look at me  
>I've fallen like a fool for you<br>Darling can't you see  
>I'd do anything you want me to<em>

_I tell myself, I'm getting in too deep  
>Then I fall a little farther<br>Every time you look at me  
><em>

_Every time you look at me_

The wedding guests go crazy after the final chord sounds. More than a few are wiping at eyes and cheeks to rid them of tears brought on by the heartfelt performance of their local heroine. Rachel seems unaffected by the praise, her eyes still trained on the beautiful woman in the beautiful wedding gown. When she watches the man, standing so intimately behind Quinn, bow his head to press a kiss to her cheek, the spell is broken. Quinn isn't hers. Not anymore. A desperate sense of loss overwhelms her and there's nothing left to do now, but flee.

So she does. With a freshly broken heart and a never ending stream of tears falling from her eyes.

Not noticing woman whose laser-like hazel gaze is following her exit. Not yet knowing that, in a couple of months, that same woman will be standing on her doorstep, begging for another chance.


	2. Looking Back

**Some of you requested a continuation of the one-shot. And I aim to please ;) Not to worry; it's not finished. One more chapter after this one, I promise. The songs used in this story are mentioned in this chapter, but they're Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and Kerry Muzzey's Looking Back, two personal favorites. Both can be found on YT. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Haunting. It's become some sort of a theme, it appears. From her memories to her music; everything seems haunting. Her fingers glide over the black and white keys of her beloved Steinway, pressing and depressing without conscious thought. The melody she's producing echoes off the walls of her apartment. The sound makes her shiver in its intensity. It's beautiful. And dramatic. And, there's that word again, haunting.<p>

She's lost in her thinking, mind all over the place. Her trips down memory lane are never orderly and organized, no. They're a jumbled mess of words and pictures and songs and music. Especially music. And even while she's playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, a completely different song is playing in her head. It's been on constant repeat ever since _that_ day and no matter what she wills herself to listen to, she can't seem to get rid of it. With the movie of memories playing in her head, it forces its way into her brain, turning itself into becoming the soundtrack to her thoughts.

She's halfway through the sonata, but it doesn't really register. She only plays to have something to do. To take her mind off everything else, though 'everything else' comes down to one thing, really. Or rather, one person. She's been feeling this way for months now and she knows she needs to try to forget about it ~ about _her _~ but it's no use. She's tried drinking; it didn't work. In fact, drinking only made it worse. Rachel's an emotional drunk. _She_ used to tell her so. It's enough of a reason to stop drowning herself in alcohol, because Rachel really doesn't want to think about the 'she' in that sentence. And yet, she does. All of the _god damned_ time!

She recalls a day not that long ago. Recalls the image of a picture perfect couple dancing right in front of her, the amazing white gown enhancing the natural beauty of the woman wearing it. She recalls herself, standing on that stage, trying her hardest to keep a steady voice and not give into the desperation that's seeping into the words she's singing.

She remembers the moment their eyes finally met, the way it made her stomach drop. Even now, it makes her fingers fumble for a second; causing her to skip a few notes on the song she's still playing. She recovers fast, the steady rhythm lulling her back into a hazy dream state.

First kiss, first date, first time making love. First time having sex (because there _is_ a difference). Meeting the parents, telling their friends, first fight. And the last. A continuous loop of fragments of their life together assaults her all day, every day and she doesn't understand why she's being haunted by her past. Up until the wedding, she'd been doing fine. Well, maybe not _fine_, but _okay_. Or maybe not okay, either, but she'd been doing better than this, at least.

Back then, when she'd first laid eyes on the expensive looking envelope between bills and fan mail, she'd been giddy. She'd even made it into a game of sorts, trying to guess who'd want her to attend their wedding. Never in a million years had she expected Quinn's name to grace the expensive, linen paper, boldly declaring that she planned to spend the rest of her life with someone other than Rachel. It hurt. It hurt so badly, she'd found herself on her knees in the middle of the hallway, crying and screaming and begging for the pain to stop. Then she'd RSVP'd.

As the last notes of melancholy ring around her apartment, Rachel thanks her lucky stars ~ not for the first time ~ that she'd only been invited to the reception. She doesn't think she would have survived the exchange of vows and rings and the first kiss. It makes her shudder just to think about it. She doesn't really recall the man who'd held her love in his arms during their dance. Maybe it's because she's blocking it, or something, but she just doesn't. The only thing she remembers is the way he'd touched Quinn with familiarity. Intimately. Possessively. As if it were his God-given right to put his hands on _her_ Quinn. It's another thing that won't let her sleep at night.

She remembers Quinn's body. Every blessed inch of it. She's kissed it, licked it, made love to it and had sex with it (because there's _still_ a difference). She remembers lovingly sifting her fingers through that luscious mane of blonde hair during movie nights. Tugging at it wantonly while making love. She remembers the sensitivity of the patch of skin just below her ear, kissing it to calm her down, sucking it to rev her up. Soft, firm breasts. Toned arms and thighs wrapped around her. Those glorious abs pressing against her in the most delicious of ways. And those eyes. Half lidded, fighting to stay open just because Rachel begged her to. Fully blown pupils telling of her want, her desire. And all of it, all of the beauty that made up _her_ Quinn, was _his_ now. In her traitorous mind, she can't help but conjure up images of _him_ kissing Quinn's body. Licking it, making love to it. Having _sex_ with it!

It's enough to crush the ever present lump in her throat holding back her emotions. While her fingers mindlessly start in on Kerry Muzzey's 'Looking Back', she feels her heart break all over again. Tears are clouding her vision, but she doesn't need it anyway. This piece, too, she could play with her eyes closed. It's beautiful. And dramatic. And haunting. And while Rachel's inside the apartment trying not to fall apart, outside Quinn is doing the same.

She's been here since halfway into the first movement of the Sonata, listening to the music coming from inside apartment #309. She's huddled against the door, back pressed against it. The sound of the Steinway reminds her of when Rachel used to play for her, though the songs back then were usually a bit more cheerful than what she's playing now. It reminds her of open windows and billowing curtains, making love on the living room floor to celebrate the rain, the sunshine, or the rainbow on fickle days. It brings back memories of having sex on top of/against/beneath that beautiful Steinway and, okay, maybe those aren't thoughts she should be having right now. But, by _God_, those are good memories.

The first time she'd been in bed with her ex-husband, she'd had no clue on how to proceed. So used to softness and smooth skin and curves, it'd been a bit of a feat to get over his hard musculature, the not-so-smooth-skin and the angles. But she'd wanted it. Wanted _him_. Because she loved him and he loved her and they'd get it right in the end.

She remembers crying after that first time, lying in his arms while he'd tried to comfort her. Had he known the reason for her upset, he wouldn't have been so accommodating, she bets. Because with the way he'd held her from behind, arms heavy and stifling around her, his coarse chest hair agitating against her shoulder blades, she hadn't been able to stop thinking of _her_. The way _she_ used to hold her. The feeling of silk-like skin pressing against her shoulder blades. Tan arms loosely circling her from behind, toned thighs against the back of her own. She'd been wracked with guilt. For sleeping with him, for thinking of her while doing it. She'd been a mess.

As the last notes of the Sonata sound through the door, she makes a move to get up. Only to halt her progress when she hears Rachel seamlessly move into 'Looking Back'. Between the familiar high notes, another well known sound catches her attention. The sound of crying. Rachel's crying. It triggers her own tears and moments later they're caught up in an unwanted duet of repressed cries and shuddering breaths.

When the apartment falls silent, Quinn takes a moment to gather her strength. Pushing herself up from the floor, she wipes at her tears, trying to erase the evidence of her crying with a self-deprecating grimace on her face. She's still a mess. She knocks anyway.

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><p><strong>Thoughts? Song suggestions for the grand finale? Let me know and I'll see what I can do.<strong>


	3. Look at Us

**The song is by Vince Gill. I do not own it nor do I claim to own it. As always, just borrowing.  
><strong>**This is the last part of this fic. E****njoy!**

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><p>That night had been the beginning of their second chance. In between crying spells, screaming matches and heated make-out sessions, they'd 'talked'. It had taken a lot of time and effort, but they'd been on the right track after that, for sure.<p>

Hence this moment.

Today has been a blur of activity. From the second you woke up this morning until now, nothing really registered. You've been in a bit of a daze all day long, even during the more important parts. You feel like you're sleepwalking; you're here but not really. You're just exceptionally grateful for the fact that a lot of pictures have been taken. And you're not exactly sure, but you think you heard Rachel say something about a camera guy being there.

Right now, you're watching your friends take the stage. Finn behind the drum kit, Puck slinging a guitar strap over his shoulder, Artie heaving a Dobro onto his lap. Tina finding her seat behind a keyboard, while Mercedes, Brittany and Santana move behind a set of microphones. There's only one person missing in action and she's climbing the stage as you think this.

Radiant as ever ~ or maybe even more radiant than you've ever seen her ~ Rachel finds her way center stage. You don't know why, but you already feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. What you do know, is that this is going to be a performance to remember.

The adoring look being thrown your way, makes your heart hurt. In a good way, of course, but it still feels like it's breaking. Or bursting, rather. It's filled to the brim with the love you feel for the woman currently looking at you as if you're the only two people in this packed-to-the-roof room. Then she opens her mouth to address the crowd, to address _you_ and your emotions reach a previously unknown high.

"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, if I may have your attention, please?"

You snort at this. As if she didn't have all eyes on her the moment she climbed the stage. Rachel notices your reaction and winks at you with the most delicious little smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Today has been … Wow!" Rachel starts with a thousand watt smile on her face.

The crowd chuckles. Some even laugh out loud at Rachel's lack of eloquence.

"Yeah, just wow! I knew it would be a good day what with marrying the love of my life and all, but your presence here today has made it all the more memorable. So, thank you for that."

The 'love of my life' reference has you swallowing thickly. It never gets old.

"Quinn, sweetheart", Rachel's voice is already breaking and you watch a lone tear crawling down her cheek.

"In all honesty, there was a time I thought that this day would never come for us. We've been through a lot and there's probably more to come, still, but no one will ever be able to take this away from us. You _are_ the love of my life and I thank every deity in existence for having brought us here. Today, they made me promise you to love you, honor you and cherish you, though I think I've being doing exactly that since the first time you kissed me."

"No way, Berry!" You shout at her over the sounds of adoration from our friends and family. Those sounds quickly turn into chuckles and guffaws when you finish your statement.

"_You_ kissed _me _first!"

"So you keep saying", she grins, knowing you're right.

"Now hush, baby. I'm trying to make a grand gesture here and you're already breaking the vow of obedience."

You laugh at the people surrounding you who are making whipping sounds. Throwing your hands up in a gesture of complete surrender, she nods in satisfaction while mouthing that she loves you.

"The reason I'm up here, should be quite obvious. What's a wedding reception without a heartfelt song by little old me, right?"

It's followed by a round of applause and hoots and hollers, indicating that a lot of people want to hear her sing, but you're the one she's looking at. You'll always be her biggest fan and she knows it.

"So, without further ado, I bring you New Directions, country style. Quinn, this one's for us."

Artie's Dobro takes care of the short intro, quickly followed by the rest of your friends on their respective instruments.

You recognize the song immediately. It's become somewhat of an anthem for the two of you ever since the first time Puck played it for you. You'd been going through a rough patch, one of many in the troubled first stages of your second chance, but your friends believed in you. Told you that they all wished for a relationship like yours, even though it took a lot of hard work at times. They were right. Everything you've been through has been worth it. And the song she's singing right now could've been written with the two of you in mind, had it not been written years before.

You close your eyes and let Rachel's voice wash over you.

_Look at us  
>After all these years together<br>Look at us  
>After all that we've been through<br>Look at us  
>Still leaning on each other<em>

_And if you wanna see_  
><em>How true love should be<em>  
><em>then just look at us<em>

_Look at you_  
><em>Still pretty as a picture<em>  
><em>Look at me<em>  
><em>Still crazy over you<em>  
><em>Look at us<em>  
><em>Still believin' in forever<em>

_And if you wanna see_  
><em>How true love should be<em>  
><em>then just look at us<em>

_In a hundred years from now_  
><em>I know without a doubt<em>  
><em>They'll all look back and wonder how<em>  
><em>We made it all work out<em>

_Chances are_  
><em>that we'll go down in history<em>  
><em>And when they wanna see<em>  
><em>How true love should be<em>  
><em>They'll just look at us<em>

During the bridge in the song, Rachel makes her way off the stage and beckons you to join her on the dance floor for your first dance, while New Directions keep playing with starry eyes and indulgent grins.

Tan arms slip around your waist with just the right amount of pressure. In heels, she's just tall enough for you to let you rest your chin comfortably on her shoulder and for her to mirror your position. Your arms are loosely wrapped around her, your hands clasped together on her lower back drawing her in even closer to your own body. Your cheeks brush and you revel in the feel of her soft skin against your own. This moment is pure perfection. Everything you've ever wanted is wrapped up in the tiny frame of the woman in your arms and you just know that she's your forever.

While your friends are doing one hell of a job playing 'your song', your eyes meet and together you start singing the last part of the song. The perfect ending. The perfect beginning.

_Chances are  
>That we'll go down in history<br>And when they wanna see  
>How true love should be<br>They'll just look at us_

_And when they wanna see  
><em>_How true love should be  
><em>_They'll just look at us_

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><p><strong>Finis! My first completed multi-chaptered RachelQuinn fic. Yeah, yeah, I know it's short, but still...  
>If you feel inclined to let me know how you feel, I wouldn't be opposed to that. If not, thank you for reading, anyway. I hope you've enjoyed it.<strong>

**Edited because iconicplatonic pointed out to me that my pov changed somewhere in the middle of the story. Thanks for that! It's fixed now.**


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